I have been invited by Roger to write a guest entry describing our recent visit to Green Fields, a Brazilian buffet restaurant located in Corona, Queens. Though I am positively thrilled at the opportunity to do so, I am somewhat apprehensive about falling short of the high standards for overall quality of writing to which this blog has consistently adhered. I hope that these observations of a longtime reader, first time blogger will at least begin to capture the excitement, wit, and overall class that loyal readers have come to expect, respect, and love.
I first floated the idea of visiting Green Fields past Roger a few weeks ago. I had eaten there for the first time a few days earlier and was absolutely entranced by the whole experience. To those not familiar with the establishment, Green Fields specializes in the Brazilian barbeque technique know as churrascaria. Restaurants of this variety consist of a buffet section that contains a salad bar and a wide selection of Brazilian and American foodstuffs. Though quite tasty, the main feature is the meat. On top of each table is a wooden cylinder, one side green, and the other red. When the green side is placed on top, a “meat guy” will start bringing meat to the table and only stop when flipped to show the red. This system ensures that the customer has absolute control over the flow of meat to the table.
Roger and I left his apartment and took the 7-train through Queens, intending to meet Jenn at the Roosevelt Ave. station in Jackson Heights. Luckily for us, Roger had the foresight to bring along his digital camera and two gigabyte memory card. This allowed us to take dozens of photos in only a few hours, a selection of which are featured here. During the elevated train we were able to take in the scenic beauty that is western Queens. Those who have yet to do so should really make an effort to visit Queens via the 7, if only to take a ride on the iconic line. I truly envy those who get to experience this journey daily, especially those lucky enough to have apartments are within arms reach of the tracks.
Upon meeting up with Jenn, our merry threesome continued to ride the 7, finally getting off at 111th St. in Corona. Since gentrification has yet to affect this neighborhood as it has the majority of New York, Jenn was kind enough to tow along an arsenal of self-defense weapons. Wildly swinging a can a Mace and screaming unintelligibly at any resident to come within thirty feet of us, we were left in peace as we walked while pedestrians ran in the opposite direction. We reached the restaurant unscathed and ready to indulge.
Once seated and explained the situation of the restaurant we quickly headed over to the buffet center, where we loaded up on salad, rice, and other such buffet items. Soon after Meat Guy One came over with the first selection: sausage, bacon wrapped turkey, and sirloin. Meat Guy One was kind enough to oblige Roger in his request for an extensive photo session that detailed every aspect of the meat distribution process. He seemed rather pleased with this attention after years of abuse from patrons, grinning from ear to ear and he cut off great, big, greasy slabs of meat. The sight of pure, chaste joy as experienced by this handler of meat brought us sincere satisfaction in our abilities to bring simple happiness into the lives of others.
Meat Guy Two was less receptive to being photographed. At first sight of the camera a scowl slowly spread across his face that did not let up as he grimly cut off pieces of prime rib. He soon departed, pushing his cart of meat and muttering inaudibly to himself, and we were left wondering what trauma prompted this response as we chewed in silence.
Throughout the course of the evening we were served a variety of incredibly juicy and fatty meat. Other types included chicken wings, skirt steak strips, and goat ribs. We were all very much satisfied by the meal in general, though there was some constructive criticism to go around. Jenn’s culinary expertise allowed her to give the most professional critiques out of us all. Her top quotes include, “I like this. It’s good” and, “I don’t like this. It’s not good.” Bacon wrapped turkey seemed to be the fan favorite of the evening. Sirloin was not as well received by meat critic Jenn, who lambasted it as being suggestive of corrugated cardboard. They can’t all be winners, I suppose.
Four hours and seven pounds of meat later, we were sufficiently full to ask for the check and leave. As we stumbled out of the restaurant and onto Northern Blvd., I felt as if the reaction was muted enough for me to swear off suggesting restaurants for at least a few years. The combination of nausea and lethargy that hit me, known as a “meat coma,” prompted me to return home while my companions went clubbing at upscale establishments until dawn, an admirable feat of endurance by anyone’s standards. Despite the ill aftereffects of the feast, I don’t regret a moment and will return one day when the desire for copious amounts of meat hits me like an eighteen-pound turkey wrapped in bacon and stuffed with lard. Yum.
http://www.greenfieldchurrascaria.com/sub2.htm
1 comment:
MEAT COMA RULES!
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